Collide
by Permanent Rose
Summary: /I somehow find, you and I collide/ A summer job Puck never really wanted leads to a forbidden summer romance. Puck/Emma


_A/N: This was inspired loosely by the song Collide by Howie Day, from which this fic gets it's title. _

_This story is dedicated to xSleeplessXNightsx who not only inspired this, but also encouraged me relentlessly through the entire writing process. I love you, girly ;)_

_A little warning for language. I blame Puck ;)_

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You count the minutes, because you have nothing better to do.

The evening is unseasonably chilly, and paired with the fact that it's nearly closing time, the pool area is nearly vacant. A mother struggles to get two of her three boys out of the water, while an elderly man still swims laps in the far lane. Beside the pool, a girl lies on a lawn chair, clad in a bikini, trying soak the fading rays of sun in vain.

Even her bronze, curvaceous body hardly catches your eye. You're too distracted to really care, caught up in your own brooding.

The man swimming laps is the first to leave, pulling himself from the water in one fluid movement. The woman follows soon after, herding her red-haired children unceremoniously through the gate. The girl is the last to go, reluctantly stowing her magazine back into her bag. She doesn't bother with a cover up, and as she walks out the gate, her hips swing suggestively.

Your disinterest is once again unsettling. But your mind is elsewhere—an elsewhere you'd rather not delve into.

Paul, your fellow lifeguard, hastily jumps down from his post, eager to close up. You, however, slowly dismount from you chair. This Friday night feels like any other evening, any other day. No dates, no hookups, no hanging out with friends. This summer is different; this summer you've changed.

Paul immediately begins checking the chemical levels in the pool, doing the task to quickly that you're sure you're going to have to recheck. Unlike you, Paul has a girlfriend and a date to the movies tonight. It's the only thing he's been talking about all week.

"Shit," he groans, glancing at his watch. "I'm gonna be late."

"Go ahead, I'll finish up on my own," you tell him, seemingly out of kindness, but really, you're not in the mood to listen to him whine.

"Really?" he asks, eagerly, heading to the locker room to grab his things before before you can even answer.

You smile, a bit sardonically, picking up a few toys left beside pool, dumping them into the heaping pile that has become the 'lost and found.'

You've lost a lot.

You imagine all of your losses, piled up like the colorful pool toys. It's so daunting that you wouldn't even know where to begin, trying to pick up all the pieces and arrange them back together.

You sit by the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water as you take out the thermometer so you can record the temperature. As you rise, you hear the click of flip-flops against the pavement. Filing the eighty-two degrees in your head, you curiously glance past to the gate to discover the source of the sound.

Your stomach flutters, as soon as you recognize the approaching figure. She's wearing her usual white flip-flops, embellished with tiny plastic roses and a matching white cover-up that falls midway around her creamy thighs. A pale green bathing suit strap pokes out from the neckline, contrasting with her her vibrant red hair.

You unlock the gate for her before she even approaches it, refusing to look her in the eye as she steps past you.

The click of her flip-flops stop, and you turn, slowly, trying to keep yourself composed, because as soon as your eyes lock with those gorgeous brown orbs, you know you're a goner.

"I forgot my necklace here. Earlier, when I, um, was here before..." Her voice is sweet and distinctive. You love that hint of a Southern accent that laces her words. You even love her hesitation, the way she always seems a bit shy and outspoken.

You lick the roof of your mouth, trying to formulate an appropriate response. You never expected her to be here. You hurt so much that you tell yourself you don't even want her to be here.

"You don't have to lie to me."

She looks up, her pretty eyes darting from her feet to your face. She doesn't have her typical tote with her and for a minute, she flails for something to wrap her nervous hands around. She settles with the hem of her cover-up, twisting the material methodically.

She doesn't answer.

It hurts you to watch her. She looks so frail, so tiny, especially next to your well-developed muscles. But even that beautiful, tiny creature is capable of causing you so much pain, as unintentional as it may be.

"Why are you here?" you force the words out, trying to hide your hurt. "Why did you come back?"

She releases her fists from the hem of her dress, her knuckles white from gripping it so roughly. She steps toward you, reaching up with her small hand, her bold touch shocking you. She cups your cheek softly. Your first instinct is to push it away, but her touch leaves you momentarily paralyzed.

"I came to see you."

XXXX

You wanted a car.

What was the point of having your license if you had to share a beat up station wagon with your mother?

Your mother already worked two jobs, just to make ends meet and create a comfortable lifestyle for you and your sister. Asking her for financial help was out of the question, so you started your first summer job.

Being a lifeguard was a pretty good deal, as far as jobs went. You got to sit in the sun, watching hot babes tan for hours, getting paid all the while.

And as much as you hated to admit it, it gave you a much needed activity to fill your time. Your relationship with Finn was permanently damaged, no matter how much time passed or how many apologies were accepted.

And Quinn.

You hardly wanted to think about her, or little Beth, who had been whisked away from you much before you were ready to let her go.

You'd never felt so alone—so isolated before, trying to sort through feelings and emotions you were never ready to handle.

Your days at the pool came as a relief—an excuse to get out of the house and hold yourself together. The endless hours of solitude while you watched the throng of pool-goers sometimes burdened you, though, giving you too much time to think.

You noticed Miss Pillsbury for the first time during your second Wednesday of work. It was the last place you had expected to see her, but you figured a pool was probably one of the cleaner public destinations, and even a neat freak like her had to get out sometimes.

She distanced herself away from the swarming crowd of wet bodies, choosing a lawn chair by the far edge of the pool. After wiping down the chair thoroughly with disinfectant spray, she spread a stark white towel over the surface. You watched in interest as she reached for the hem of her cover up, pulling the garment away from her slender body.

You were pleasantly surprised to find her wearing a striped baby blue bikini. She was always a modest dresser at school, as much of her as you had seen at least. She arranged herself atop the towel, resting a house keeping magazine against her stomach. Her tiny breasts swelled against the material of her suit; you usually liked the more developed women, but you found her tiny curves to be quite appealing.

You swore, if a kid started drowning right now, you wouldn't have even noticed. You spent the rest of your shift, watching her intently, unable to tear your eyes away. You gladly welcomed this distraction, your new found obsession, to take your mind away from everything you wished to forget.

Her quirkiness could easily be a turn off, but you found yourself intrigued as you watched her. Every hour, she lowered her magazine, pulling out a tube of sunscreen for her bag to reapply. After rubbing the oily substance onto her flawless, milky skin, she folded up her towel, storing it in her tote and then producing a clean one to spread out in it's place.

For the three hours she stayed at the pool, she never once neared the water's edge, much to your displeasure. You wanted a closer look, suddenly longing to watch the droplets of water cascade down her body.

You found it slightly ironic, that you'd known her for two years now, but you never once thought about what was under those high necked bloused and modest sweaters. Watching her skin glisten in the afternoon sun opened your mind to a whole different side of her, a side you were itching to explore.

She came every Wednesday, precisely at noon and stayed until three. She wore a different suit each time, always piquing your curiosity as she shimmed out of her white cover-up.

You began to crave these Wednesday afternoons, hoping for things you knew you shouldn't.

XXXX

Today, she was wearing a yellow polka dot bikini, easily one of your favorites thus far. It was a bit smaller than her usual suits, showing more cleavage that you had seen before you as you ogled at the swell of her rosy breasts.

During her first sunblock reapplication, the lid to her sunscreen dropped, rolling a fair distance away from her safe corner. You watched as her mouth curved into a perfect little 'O,' her eyes widening as she judged the distance from her safe corner . You were quick to step down from you chair, glancing quickly to make sure Paul was watching carefully enough to cover for you for you as you succumbed to distraction. You picked up the lid from a puddle of warm pool water, wiping it on your red swimming trunks before walking toward your guidance counselor.

"You dropped this?" you said as nonchalantly as you can manage, watching as her face contorted into an expression of shock.

"Oh, um, Puck," she stuttered, her eyes darting from your face to your abs then to her own scantily clad body. She groped for her towel, wrapping it around her front as she continued to stumble over her words. "Uh, thanks, for um, getting that for me...I didn't realize you were, you know, a lifeguard here..."

Of course she wouldn't have noticed. She was always so caught up her own little world, her own little clean, manageable pocket of the universe were everything felt safe. You were the farthest thing possible from all she found comfortable, and for a brief moment upon realizing this, you felt as though you'd been punched in the gut.

You handed her the lid, your fingers brushing ever so slightly against hers. You skin tingled as you pulled away, and as stared dumbly at her own perfect little fingers for a moment as she retracted her own.

"Thanks, Puck," she whispered, unable to take her gaze away from her hand.

"No problem, Miss P," you told her, letting your lips curve into a lazy smile.

You continued to watch her as you climbed back up to your post. As she sat down with her towel still wrapped around her, she continued to look at the hand you had touched. You figured her mind was reeling from the germ exchange, and you told yourself not to take it personally.

You expected her to slather hand sanitizer over her skin any moment now, so she surprised you when she reached for her sunscreen, smiling for a brief, brief moment as she looked at her hand one last time.

She rubbed the white substance onto her skin, unable to reach her back, as always, forcing her to always recline on her backside. You were dying to offer to do her back for her—curious to know if her lovely skin felt as smooth as it looked.

She seemed distracted, hardly turning the pages of her magazine as she rested it against her knees, glancing up quickly to look at you too often. As three o'clock rolled around, she packed up her belongings, catching your eye as she strode from the pool area. You locked gazes with her, only for a fleeting second, lifting your hand to wave inconspicuously.

She turned her face away, immediately, looking flustered.

You watched her go, feeling melancholy for the rest of your shift.

XXXX

She was late the following Wednesday, and you began to panic, wondering if your innocent exchange the previous week had scared her away.

The day was overcast and hazy, and you wondered if she had foregone her usual visit due to the weather. The idea left you feeling emptier than it should've, and you grimaced slightly, trying to tell yourself that she shouldn't have mattered this much to you.

She wasn't like any other woman you had sought out before. Most were eager and desperate, all to willing to take advantage of what you were willing to give. You were fascinated by how soft and shy and delicate she was, like a rare, forbidden flower.

You didn't just want to fuck her and toss her aside, adding her to the pile of girls you never thought twice about. You wanted to explore her. You wanted to explore every inch of her—touch every single crevice.

You wanted to listen to her soft voice, talking for hours, rambling about anything and everything. You wanted to feel her soft body next to yours; you were certain her tiny form would fit perfectly against yours.

You wanted her; you wanted all of her.

And the fact that you couldn't only made you want her more.

XXXX

When she arrived, exactly forty-three mintutes late, you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

Despite the lack of people, she still took her usual spot, her eyes nervously darting in your direction as she lay out her typical set up. After pulling off her cover-up (a pale green bathing suit this time—the plainest yet, but the color was so perfect with her hair it immediately took the favorite slot), she wrung her hands together nervously before reaching for her sunblock.

You watched again, in vain, as she could not reach her back.

XXXX

"Want a hand?"

She looked up, dropping the sunscreen immediately as her eyes fell on you.

"P-puck," she stuttered. "Um, hi."

You bent down to pick up the fallen tube, noticing for the first time she used 60 SPF. You nearly chuckled, your lip curving into a smirk as you handed it to her, deliberately causing your fingers to touch.

"I could get your back for you," you offered again, watching her fidget nervously. "I noticed you were having some trouble."

"Puck, um, as nice as your offer is, I'm not sure that's entirely appro—" she trailed off as you gently pried the tube from her grasp, your hands brushing once again. Her eyes widened as she fought to regain her train of thought.

You smiled. You liked it, knowing you were in control, knowing how aware and vulnerable she was to your very presence. Though it shot a thrill up your spine, you reminded yourself how fragile she was.

She was different from the others, and you wanted to keep her that way.

"Just so you don't burn, okay?" You told her softly, squeezing the white substance into your outstretched hand.

She nodded slowly, a little warily. "Just my back..."

She flinched slightly as soon as your fingers made contact with her skin. You retracted for a moment, letting her relax. Her breath hitched as you began to gently rub the sunblock onto her back, moving your hand in soft circles around the exposed skin.

"You know, it's probably, um, silly of me to be putting sunscreen when the weather's so overcast like this." He voice was an octave too high as you continued to rub, you hands slipping under the back strap to cover the skin beneath it.

"Actually," you told her, noticing how her skin was dotted with tiny little freckles, so faint that they weren't noticeable for from faraway. "You can get just as burnt on overcast days...the sun's still there even when you can't see it."

You remembered last summer, coming to this same pool with Finn. Unlike you, he always needed sunscreen for his fairer complexion, and he had opted not to use it on a day just like this. You had laughed at how red his whole body had become the next day.

"I never, um, really thought of that," she told you, her muscles loosening a little as you continued to rub, though you had covered thoroughly her back long ago.

You smiled. "I really like that color on you, by the way," you muttered before you could hold your tongue.

Her eyes flashed for a moment, and you weren't certain as to exactly what might happen next.

Though you were positive you didn't expect her to burst into tears.

XXXX

"I-I'm s-so-sorry," she wailed, and you recoiled your hands immediately, suddenly at a loss.

Your comment had been out of line, but it you had hardly done anything to render a response like this.

She continued to blubber loudly, people turning to glance in your direction curiously. You twitched nervously, you heart pounding a little in your panic. Had you somehow hurt her?

When it was obvious her cries were not going to cease, you hesitantly took her hand, leading her back into the pool supplies storage room.

"Look, I'm sorry," the words left your mouth in a fervent rush. "Please," you practically begged. "What can I do?"

"Oh, Puck," she choked. "It' my fa-fault. Not yours."

The words spilled from her mouth after that, a stream of pent up pain. You found it hard to catch it all; her words slurred together through her tears and you weren't exactly positive of what she was going on about. Something about Will—you had known for a while she had a thing with Mr. Schue. And then more about this Carl guy.

How she could never be enough for them.

Usually, this was when you fucked a girl. You'd fuck them so hard that they'd forgot how to cry—they'd forget their pathetic pain, their hysterical emotions. You could always get what you wanted from them when they allowed themselves to sink this low.

But your heart broke a little as you watched her, a beautiful women who appeared so successful on the exterior but could hardly hold herself together on the inside. A woman who deserved so much more.

A woman who deserved to be enough.

You wrapped your arms around her trembling form, hardly considering your actions as she melted against you. All your boyish fantasies melted away, even with the bare skin of her belly pressed up against yours.

She needed so much more than you could give her. You pulled her closer, letting her head fall into the crook of your neck, her sobs finally ceasing. Her breath felt hot against your neck—first short little huffs, but soon they gave way into deep, slow sighs as her breathing steadied.

"Sometimes," you whispered, daring to let your chin rest in her hair. "I feel that way too—that I wasn't enough for Quinn...it hurts, when you want something, but you don't want to compromise and change for that person..."

She pulled her head away for a moment, searching your eyes with her own. She said nothing, pressing her cheek back against your chest after a moment, settling back into your arms.

"Thank you, Puck," she whispered, feeling the hot stream of tears against your skin as she began to cry once again. "Thank you so much."

XXXX

She was late again, the following Wednesday, and your heart was about to burst from anticipation as she walked through the gate.

She deliberately turned her face away from you, setting up her corner without glancing your way. It frustrated you; you had both stripped yourselves raw last week, and now she was pretending as though nothing had even happened.

Instead of a magazine, she has a book today. A worn looking copy of something you couldn't make out of from here.

When three o'clock rolled around, she stayed firmly planted in her seat, never once glancing up from her book. Four came. And then five.

You anxiously watched her each hour, producing towel after towel from her bag, reapplying so much sunscreen you weren't sure how it all soaked into her skin.

As the crowd thinned, she remained, though she began to glance over the top of her book, so quickly that you hardly even caught it.

At five thirty, a half hour before closing time, the pool area was nearly empty. You watched as she slowly rose, keeping her page marked with her finger as she slipped on her white sandals. Curiosity tugged at your gut as she walked away from her chair, leaving her bag and other items behind.

She stopped by the edge of your chair, gazing up hesitantly.

"Puck."

You looked down at her expectant face. You didn't know what to say. Didn't even know what to call her.

"Look, Puck," she continued to squint up at you. You dismounted your chair, surprising her slightly when you landed beside her.

She glanced up at you through her lashes as she continued. "I just, um, wanted to say how much it meant to me last week...you, uh, being to understanding...I really appreciate it." she stumbled over her words, blushing heavily as she averted her gaze from yours.

A rush of pride surged through. "Anytime...Miss P," you added, letting her know that your intentions were pure.

She blushed deeper, the use of her formal name reminding her of the taboo nature of the situation. "Please," she whispered, so softly that you hardly even heard. "Call me Emma."

The swelling in your heart only grew, threatening to burst as she said the words.

"Emma," you tried the name, liking the way it rolled from your lips. You grinned.

Her lips curved into a smile, her face relaxing as she looked up at you. Her eyes darted back to her corner.

"So what are you reading?" you asked, desperate to keep her attention, if only for a moment longer.

She glanced down at the book in her hand, as if remembering it was there for the first time. "Oh, um, _A Midsummer's Night Dream,_" she muttered, trailing off, almost seeming a little embarrassed.

You'd only heard of it. "Shakespeare?"

She nodded. "Have you read it?"

You shook your head, glancing down at her worn copy. "Is it good?"

She nodded again. "It's one of my favorites...it's been a while since I've read it, though. One of the main characters is a fairy named Puck," she added, her fingers skimming against the pages as she said the words.

You laughed, intrigued by the fact that you had inspired her to reread this book. "A fairy?"

"Yeah, a sprite. He causes a lot of mischief, messing up people's romances," she explained.

You blushed this time, feeling slightly bitter as you recalled the previous school year. "Maybe I should read it."

She smiled faintly, her fingers continuing to brush across the pages.

A loud splash erupted from behind you. Paul blew his whistle loudly, yelling at two boys who were wrestling violently in the water.

"You, um, probably need to get back up there," she muttered, her eyes falling on your elevated chair.

You nodded, feeling irritated. "I get off in about twenty minutes," you told her, leaving it at that.

She said nothing as she returned to her chair, opening the her book once again. The twenty minutes were agony, feeling longer than your whole shift combined. But soon enough, she was the only person who remained.

Paul looked at her, impatiently frowning.

"Hey, dude!" he called to you. "Do you want to start closing up while I tell that lady to get out?"

Emma's face jerked up in panic, immediately hearing his words. You shot her a reassuring glance as you dismounted from your chair.

"I don't have anything to do tonight, so I'll take care of everything if you want to go home early," you told him, trying to sound nonchalant.

Paul was too eager to leave to question you. After muttering the necessary "are you sure" and "I appreciate it, dude," Paul was out of sight.

"Hey!" you called before he disappeared into the locker room. "Tell Kate I'll lock up," you told him, referring to the pool manager.

He nodded, slipping into the confines of the locker room.

You turned toward Emma, smiling brightly now that you had her completely to yourself. She placed her book against the chair, rising as she walked toward you.

"What you need to do—to close up?" she asked shyly.

"Just check the water temperature and chemical levels of the pool and hot tub and pick up any items people left behind. I'll get it later though, after you leave," you told her quickly, not wanting to lose her just yet.

"No, no, I'll help you clean up," she told you, lifting her head confidently as she said the words. Her bangs bounced as she moved her head, and you resisted the urge to touch the feathery texture.

"Really, you don't have to...Emma," you hesitantly tried her name, in context. It had a forbidden taste as it left your mouth.

She noticed too, but she said nothing. "No really, Puck, it will go faster if I help you. And then you can come talk to me while I pack up."

You checked the chemical level and the temperature while she picked up a pile of forgotten items, grimacing slightly as she touched the belongings that were not hers. It made you smile, realizing she was stepping out of her comfort zone for you.

"That should be it," you told her, following her over to her chair. She pulled a container of hand sanitizer from her bag, slathering the disinfectant over her hands.

"Want some?" she offered politely, and you reached your hands toward her out of courtesy, the heavy smell filling your nostrils as you rubbed your hands together.

You were silent for a moment, and you wondered if her heart was pounding as hard as yours.

"So tell me more about Puck in your book," you hardly cared about the fairy-thing that shared your name, but you wanted to get her talking, so you waited patiently as she began to describe a character and a storyline you didn't really get. At one point, she picked up her book, paging through for a passage to further illustrate her point. She read out loud, her sweet voice carefully annunciating the poetic words you didn't understand. She switched to a British accent in the middle, to make you laugh.

"Let me try," you laughed, forcing the words out between chuckles. Her British accent was horrendous. You reached for the book, causing her to shriek as you pulled it from her grasp. She stood abruptly, falling into your lap as she groped for the book.

Glancing at the pages, you suddenly understood her overreaction. The margines were filled with her own perfect handwriting, and from what you could tell, she had analyzed her own feelings and emotions along with the context of the text.

You respectfully closed it, letting your arms fall loosely around her as you put the book in her own lap. She made no move to pull away, glancing at you shyly as she arranged herself more comfortably in your lap. She leant her head against your chest, closing her eyes.

"I like it," she whispered softly, "when someone holds me."

You tightened your arms around her, bending over to rest your chin in her hair. You allowed your lips to brush against the soft texture, the overwhelming scent of strawberries filling your nose as you breathed in her scent.

You would wanted to hold her forever.

She lifted her head, finding your eyes. You dared to cup her chin gently, tilting her face so you could fully see it.

"You know you're beautiful, right?" you murmured, your eyes searching every crevice of her perfect face. You watched as the blush crept to her skin.

Slowly, but deliberately, you brought your face toward her, giving her a moment to turn away if she wished. She remained paralyzed, her breath ricocheting off your face as you dipped in closer.

You brushed your lips against hers ever so softly, tasting a hint of mint on her lips. You brought your hand up behind her head, pulling her closer, molding your lips against hers. You felt her body start, and for a moment, you were frightened she was going to pull, but instead, she lifted her own arms, winding them around your neck as she pressed her body against yours.

She parted her lips, surprising you, but you pushed your tongue gently inside her mouth, a thrill shooting up your spine as she sighed contently.

You were both gasping for breath as you pulled away, feeling hot despite the cool evening.

She fanned herself with her hand, a smile creeping to her face as you caught her eye.

"I have an idea," you grinned, taking her hand, shocked when she followed without hesitation. She slowed her gait as you neared the water's edge, looking warily at the water. "Come on," you encouraged her, dipping your foot into the calm water. "It's just us. And it's clean, I promise."

"No, no, it's not that," she muttered, looking away sheepishly. "I, um, just really never learned how to swim," she admitted.

You almost laughed, but you held it back, realizing how genuinely embarrassed she truly was. "Then I'll just have to teach you. Come on, we'll go over to the shallow end."

She warily followed, watching as you stepped down the stairs into the water. "It feels great," you urged her.

Cautiously, she put her feet against the first step, wiggling her toes as the water covered her tiny feet. You reached your hand toward her, and she took it graciously, gasping as you pulled her gently down the remaining steps.

"It's cold," she giggled. "But I like it." She aligned her body closer to yours, the warmth contrasting with the chilly water.

You bent your head over to kiss her lightly, feeling her lips curve into a smile beneath yours. You tugged her hand again, leading her deeper. As the water neared her chin, she stopped, glancing at you nervously.

"Don't worry, I've got you," you told her sweetly, snaking your arms around her waist as you held her against you. As you went deeper, she hitched her legs around your waist, clinging to you desperately as the water became too deep for her to stand in.

You chuckled, holding her tightly against you. "Let go for a minute," you commanded, loosening your own grasp. Her eyes widened as she fervently reminded you she couldn't swim.

"I won't let you go," you promised, prying her hands from around your neck. "Relax," you told her softly, lowering her into the water.

"Wha-what are you doing?" she stuttered, gripping onto your neck once again.

"I'm just going to help you float on your back—get you a little more comfortable in the water," you explained, untwisting her once again.

She was more willing but still somewhat stiff as you lowered her into the water, her hair spilling out around her like a fan.

"Not so bad, right?" you clarified, keeping your hands against her back as she floated beside you.

"Not too bad," she agreed, closing her eyes, spreading her arms out beside her. "A little relaxing, actually."

You chucked again, watching the water spill across her skin. She was silent as she continued to float, her lips curved into a lazy smile. Slowly, you began to pull your hand away, letting her float on her own.

As soon as she felt your hands slip away, her eyes flew open as she thrashed, groping for your body. You had your arms wrapped tightly around her before she had time to properly panic.

"Don't _ever _do that again," she hissed, locking her arms around you so tightly you almost couldn't breathe.

"You were fine," you assured her, running your fingers through her wet, tangled hair. "You didn't even need me."

"No. I need you," she said firmly, and softly, she added, "I need you so much."

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised her.

She began to shiver as the evening settled in, her lips turning blue as she continued to cling to your neck.

"I think someone needs to go thaw in the hot tub for a bit," you laughed. "And don't worry, it's only three feet so you'll be able to stand."

She tried to grin, but her teeth only chattered harder. You swam to the edge, helping her up to the side before hoisting your own body over the edge.

She was much more willing to get into the hot tub than into the pool, the steam rising around her as she positioned herself near a jet. You sat down beside her, snaking your arms around her waist as the hot water bubbled around you.

She turned to you, looking shy.

"What?" you asked, pulling her closer.

She licked her lips, looking down at the foamy water as she spoke. "Can you kiss me again?"

You pulled her into your lap, tilting her chin as you complied to her wishes. Her lips crashed against yours, become more desperate as you parted your mouth for her. You were surprised by her energy, her passion, but you did nothing to stop it, only encouraging her as the hot water pulsed around you.

You hand instinctively found her thigh, feeling even smoother beneath the water. As you ran your hand down the length of her leg, she stiffened slightly, but made no move to pull away.

She soon parted her legs, straddling your lap, causing you to groan in pleasure. As you hardened against her thigh, you felt her flinch, suddenly tearing her lips away from yours.

"It's okay," you assured her, reaching to pull her close again. But she clamped her thighs together, turning her face away yours. She stood, stumbling toward the steps as she pushed through the water.

"Emma," you tried to reason with her, no hesitation in your voice this time as you uttered her name.

But she shook her head, a small whimper escaping her lips as she pulled her cover-up over her dripping form. "I-I-I ha-have to go," she muttered, the click of her flip-flops slapping against the pavement before you even had a chance to react.

XXXX

She didn't come the following Wednesday.

Or the Wednesday after that.

Or even the one after that.

XXXX

You hated her, for playing games with you.

You had been so genuine, so careful, when you could've just fucked her and disposed of her like any other girl.

You hated her for the way she had made you feel, the raw emotions she had awakened in you, only to tear them mercilessly away. You hate her because you had given so much of yourself to her—for making you realize there was so much more to give than physical love.

But mostly, you hated yourself.

You hated yourself for allowing yourself to believe that it could be different

XXXX

The entire summer flashes before you eyes as you stand there, her hand placed softly against your cheek.

You finally muster the strength to lower it, turning your face away from hers.

"Puck," she pleads, a hint of a whine in her voice as she says your name. She's frustrated, and that only makes you feel more frustrated too.

"We can't," you tell her, trying to keep your voice composed and stoical. "We can't do this, Miss Pillsbury." You stress her name, causing her face to fall.

"Puck," she says again. "I was stupid, running off like that. I got scared, but really, that was no excuse. I never meant to hurt you...I was only trying to protect myself. I always run—when a situation gets to overwhelming for me to handle. It's the 'Fight or Flight' mechanism...I always flee, even when I should fight. Because there are some things that are worth fighting for."

Your heart accelerates as she says the words. "I want to fight, too," you admit, gaging your words carefully. "But a relationship—_our _relationship, it can't work. We both know that."

You watch her face twist into a pained expression as the truth settles around her. After all, your words are the reason she left so abruptly a few weeks before. You might have something—even something that's worth fighting for. But the fact remains that you're a student and she's your teacher, an almost fifteen year age gap, even if they are only numbers. Because right now, you feel like the older one, composed and reasonable, while she bits her lower lip like a petulant child.

"Puck," she sighs, promptly closing her mouth before she can add more. She takes in a deep breath before continuing. "You're a great kid—you really are. And I think I've seen a side to you that you've never let anyone see before. Someday, you're going to make some girl really happy."

You wish it could be her. You wish your lives didn't have to be hindered by rules and social acceptances. You pretend for a minute, that you could sweep her up in your arms and kiss her so hard that neither of you would be able to breathe.

But it's a lie, and you force yourself to accept the truth.

"You're going to make someone happy, too," you tell her hoarsely. "You're kind, you're thoughtful—and so beautiful," you add before you can help yourself.

She starts crying, and its takes all you have not to wrap your arms around her. But she reaches for you instead. "Can you hold me? Just one last time?"

You can hardly decline her request. You pull her tightly against you, her familiar scent of strawberry settling around you as you allow yourself to pretend for a moment longer.


End file.
